


Order Up

by Trinadecker



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Mostly Swan Queen with a little bit of Red Beauty Snowing and Sleeping Warrior, Movie Plot AU, Movie fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-24
Updated: 2015-03-05
Packaged: 2018-03-14 21:53:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3426890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trinadecker/pseuds/Trinadecker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on the plot of the absolutely adorable indie rom-com/drama Ten Inch Hero. Totally self indulgent.</p><p>On second thought, biking past the house of the son she gave up eight years ago was probably not a good idea.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Like I said, this is based off the plot of the movie. It's probably going to follow pretty close to that original plot, with a few things shifted around to make it work, and maybe a bit of a rearrangement of scenes. If you haven't seen the movie, I highly recommend it. It's much better than the trailer makes it seem, and it's one of my favorite feel good movies.  
> This is not going to be anything outstandingly creative on my part. Like I said, it'll pretty much follow the original story, but since I kept re-imagining it with Swan Queen, I figured I might as well write it.  
> There are some formatting issues and I'm aware of them but I won't be able to fix them until morning.

On second thought, biking past the house of the son she gave up eight years ago was probably not a good idea.

Maybe that should have been her first thought. But what could she do about it now?

Emma ducked her head as she passed, fighting the urge to stop and knock on the door, or do something else stupid. The address she’d found in the local directory was scrawled on her hand. Why do that if she wasn’t going to go through with it?

She’d already been out here for a second go at school when she’d found the article: a local piece on gifted kids in the area. She’d only been surfing the internet that day, but as soon as she’d seen his face, she’d known.

The picture in the article was bad, overexposed and at a crappy angle, but she could still see the resemblance. Underneath, the caption read Henry Mills, age 8. The right age, the right name.

And now she was here, like a freaking stalker.

As she pulled into a nearby shopping plaza she sighed, looking around for a place to eat that didn’t look too expensive. She hadn’t managed to land a job yet, and even with government aid and a pretty decent amount of scholarships, it wasn’t exactly cheap to live in California, make rent, and pay for school.

 _Help Wanted: “Normal People Need Not Apply.”_   The sign hung in the window of a brightly painted sandwich shop, halfway hidden behind a window decal.

Figuring it was worth a shot, she chained her bike to a nearby stand and headed in. Her eyes immediately landed on their specials board, noting the lack of creativity.

Emma grabbed a marker and began to decorate the board, adding a stylized sun to the corner. The girl behind the counter had paused whatever she was doing on her computer to stare, gesturing for the other one’s attention. The only person who wasn’t looking at her was in the corner, a phone pressed to her ear. As soon as she finished Emma capped the marker and set it down, turning to face the small crowd of employees who were regarding her with expectant looks.

“I’m not normal,” She declared.

“Clearly.” The pretty Asian woman had since hung up the phone and joined the crowd, hand on her hip.

“I need a job,” Emma clarified. “And your sign…” She gestured to the window, hoping like hell she hadn’t just scared them all off.

The woman gave her a once-over, and Emma took the opportunity to do the same. Her hair was tied up into a sloppy bun, and she was wearing a stained flannel and jeans. Everything about her screamed “casual work environment”, but there was a discipline to her face that contradicted her look.

“It’s yours.” She said, turning her attention back to her phone and scrolling through something. “You can start tomorrow.”

“Wait, really?” Emma asked, genuinely surprised. She wasn’t used to things coming that easily to her. After spending most of her life in foster homes, and then in shitty apartments with even shittier landlords, she was used to everything being an uphill battle.

The woman shrugged. “Sure, why not? Unless you don’t really want it.”

Emma opened her mouth to protest but she was cut off.

“Hang on, Mulan. I thought you said we got input on who you hired.”

Emma turned to see a girl in tiny red shorts that showed off some of the longest legs she’d ever seen. Red highlights adorned her hair, and Emma noted that she couldn’t be much older than her. She was staring at Emma with a look of suspicion. Warm welcome, then.

Mulan rolled her eyes, slipping her phone back into her pocket. “Fine, let’s take a vote. All in favor of hiring this lovely young--” She waved her hand in the air as she spoke.  

“Emma.” She broke in.

“Right, all in favor of hiring Emma here, raise your hand.”

“Or we could interview her first.” This was the first Emma had heard out of the petite, pixie-haired woman at the computer.

“That works.” Mulan paused for a moment, eyes narrowed. “Ever studied a martial art?”

“No?” Emma glanced around at the other employees. The scantily-clad one was still eyeing her, but the other one gave her a reassuring if amused smile. “It’s a sandwich shop. I doubt I’m gonna have to kick anyone’s ass, but I can hold my own in a fight.”

“Fair enough.” She nodded. “Alright. If you were trapped on a desert island, what three things would you bring and why?”

This was one that Emma had been asked before, and enough times to know that answering logically was always best. “A huge bottle of water, some food, and a fully fueled helicopter.”

Mulan narrowed her eyes. “Do you know how to _fly_ a helicopter?”

“It would have autopilot.”

She smiled, crossing her arms. “Okay, I like you. One of my other employees answered vodka once.” She frowned, and Emma fought the urge to laugh.

“What’s your favorite gemstone?” The leggy brunette asked, leaning across the counter. Emma tried her best not to be distracted by the effect this had on her low-cut T shirt.

“Uh, emerald, I guess? I’ve never really given it much thought.”

The other woman pouted, and the girl at the computer rolled her eyes.

“That’s Ruby,” She explained. “She takes her name to heart. I’m Mary Margaret, and that’s Mulan over there. But I guess you already knew that one.”

Emma gave her a smile back. “Emma Swan. Nice to meet you.”

“You wouldn’t happen to be a witch, would you?”

The genuine curiosity in Mary Margaret’s voice threw her off. “Okay, what? Is that some sort of job requirement?”

She laughed at that. “No, there’s just this lady who owns the crystal shop across the way. Mulan’s got a pretty big crush on her.”

“Alright! Time to vote!” Mulan cut in, shooting daggers at Mary Margaret, who just grinned wider. “All in favor of hiring Emma here?”

Emma watched as all three of the staff, as well as a few of the customers (which was a little odd, but hey), raised their hands. “Sweet.”

“You start tomorrow. Ten a.m. sharp, you’re opening with Rubes.” Mulan gave her a pointed look, but it was accompanied by a smile. “Don’t be late, Swan.”

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was gonna hold off on posting the second chapter but I guess I'll do it now. The rest of the updates probably won't come this quickly since I have school.

The path back to her apartment, of course, took her straight past the Mills’ house. Cursing the fact that it was on a main road, Emma pedaled harder, trying not to look in its direction. She was concentrating so hard on the road ahead of her that she almost crashed into the two people who came barreling down the driveway. Her heart jumped to her throat as she hit the breaks.

There, now several feet in front of her, was the little boy she’d seen in the article, being trailed by a woman with a heavy bag over her shoulder.

In a spur of the moment decision Emma began to follow them, trailing at a distance so she wouldn’t be noticed. The little boy -- Henry, or at least she hoped it was Henry -- kept trying to stand on his bike as he pedaled. All Emma could see of the mother following him was the snap of dark brown hair and an outfit that felt far too formal for going on a bike ride. She was calling after her son, things like _slow down sweetie_ and _don’t do that, you’ll fall!_

The words overprotective mother came to mind, but they were followed shortly by a pang in her chest. That concern was something she’d never felt for herself, and something she’d never gotten to have for another person. She reminded herself that giving the kid up for adoption was the best thing for both of them, but there was still that knot in her stomach each time she thought about it.

She was jerked out of the thought as her bike hit sand and she skidded to a stop. They’d hit the beach -- Henry was dashing out towards the water, and Regina was chasing after him.

“Henry, wait!” She called, but there was a laugh in her voice, and when she reached the boy she scooped him up into a bear hug. He squealed at the action and wiggled out of her grasp.

“Mooom! I’m not a little boy anymore!” He squeaked, and tore away from his mother.

Emma could hear the woman’s hearty laugh from several feet away. To her surprise she didn’t look a day past thirty. For some reason, Emma had always imagined her son’s adoptive parents to be an older couple. She hopped off her bike and leaned it against the nearest tree, eyes landing on a small picnic table not far from where the two were setting up beach towels.

She watched from atop the table as the little boy pulled a sketchbook from his bag, enthusiastically pointing something out to his mother. The brunette laughed again, pointing at something in the distance. After a moment they’d settled in, with the boy lost in his drawing and Regina relaxing in the sun. Absentmindedly Emma opened her own sketchbook, beginning to capture the scene on paper.

“No! No, come back!”

The cries jerked Emma out of her trance and she looked up to see that the wind had caught Henry’s paper, which was flying in her direction.

Emma pounced on it, trapping the flimsy sheet between her hands and the sand. A flash of panic twisted in her chest as she realized that Henry was still running towards her, his mother not far behind.

“Shit,” She muttered under her breath, mouth going dry as she brushed sand from her jeans. “Here you go.” She held the drawing out to the boy as he approached. He looked more like Neal than he did her -- Emma tried not to be disappointed -- with big brown eyes and dark, floppy hair. A smattering of freckles decorated his cheeks, and he flashed a crooked grin as he took the paper from her.

“Thanks, miss. Woah, that’s really good.” He was peering around her at her sketchbook, and, shit, now the mom was looking at her with eyebrows raised. She’d never had much luck with parental figures, no matter how old she got, and the last thing she needed was for this woman to think she was a creep.

“Oh, uh, thank you.” She mumbled. Henry was now holding his sketch up to hers, a slightly deflated look on his face.

“Want to know why, kid?” Emma asked in a sudden spike of confidence, sliding into the seat next to him after he nodded. She picked up an ebony pencil and a bit of kneaded eraser. “You just have to deepen your shadows,” She demonstrated, “and lighten your highlights. Contrast is your friend. Don’t be afraid to make things pop.”

“Wow.” Henry stared at the paper for a moment before grabbing his own and running back to his supplies, calling thanks over his shoulder as he went. Emma watched him go with a smile on her face, but after a minute she could feel the brunette’s gaze practically burning the side of her head.

She turned with a bit of reluctance to find the other woman staring at her, arms crossed, with a look on her face that could almost be called amusement if it didn’t also seem like a challenge.

“Hi,” Emma started, but the words died in her mouth. The woman was even prettier up close, with wind-whipped, shoulder length hair and olive skin. She was wearing a full face of makeup, which struck Emma as an odd choice for a day at the beach, but god, she wasn’t complaining. “I…”

The corners of Regina’s mouth twitched up slightly and Emma almost felt relieved, but then she realized where the other woman’s eyes had landed.

“Interesting subject matter,” She commented, nodding towards the sketchbook that was now hanging dangerously over the edge of the picnic table.

Emma shifted it back onto the wood. She debated whether or not to close it, but decided that would only seem weirder. “I, uh, hope you don’t mind. I”m not a perv or anything, I just needed to practice drawing people in casual poses, and you two were a good fit. Sorry if…” She trailed off as Regina stepped forward to inspect the artwork. It pictured her leaning back in her beach chair, a book propped against her chest as Henry concentrated on his drawing.

“It doesn’t look like you need much practice.” She said, and Emma couldn’t tell if it was a compliment or if the woman was wary of her, but she said thank you anyway.

“You’re welcome, miss…?”

“Oh! Emma.” The other woman still looked expectant and Emma panicked, realizing there weren’t that many Swans in the world and that the adoption papers would have had her name on them. She probably should have planned this all a little better. “...Harding,” She finished. As soon as the words were out of her mouth she regretted it. Harding had been the last name of the foster family she’d been with when she’d become pregnant, and they were one of the most painful families to remember.

“Well, Miss Harding, it’s nice to meet you. Especially since we’ve established that you’re not, in fact, a pervert.” She extended a hand forward and Emma shook it. “I’m Regina Mills.”

It’s actually them, Emma thought, swallowing hard. “Emma, please. Just Emma. Nice to meet you too, Reg...er, Miss Mills?”

Regina looked amused. “Either is fine.Whichever you feel comfortable with, dear.”

For some reason the “dear” at the end lit a blush in Emma’s cheeks and there was a moment of silence.

Regina was the one to break it. “You’re very talented.” She cast a glance at her son, who was scribbling away even more intently than before. “Sadly, it’s a talent I never did possess.”

“He must get it from his father’s side, then.” Emma ventured.

“Mm, no. Not likely,” Regina muttered. “No, I have no idea where he got it from.”

“Well, um…” Emma paused before gesturing to the drawing. “Do you want it?”

She looked surprised. “Actually, I’d love that, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course not. What’s his name?”

“Henry,” She replied, and the fondness in her voice was evident.

Regina & Henry, Emma scrawled in the top corner of the page. She might be an artist, but pretty handwriting was something she had yet to master. “He seems like a great kid,” She said, tearing the page from her sketchbook and handing it over.

“I’m quite fond of him myself, I have to say.” Regina smiled. “I should really get back to him, though.”

“Oh, of course!” Emma tired not to think of the pang of disappointment she felt at the words.

Regina held up the drawing as she began to back away. “Thank you for the picture.” As she turned she added, “Maybe we’ll see you around, Emma.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took me awhile! One exam down, two to go. And two essays. ...And a poster. So there will probably be a decent amount of time before I can update again, but I'm having fun with this one. Thank you guys so much for all the kind comments!

Emma bounced on her heels. A quick glance at her phone told her it was 10:17, and Ruby was nowhere to be found. And of course she didn’t have a key yet, so the sandwich shop was still dormant behind her.

She let out a sigh of relief when a truck pulled up to the curb, nearly ten minutes later. She recognized it as belonging to the guy Ruby had so easily seduced the day before, and sure enough she stepped out, ignoring the guy’s attempt at a kiss. She gave Emma a look through dark sunglasses as she headed to unlock the door, keeping her back turned until he disappeared.

When he was gone she turned, whipping off her sunglasses and rolling her eyes. “Never. Again.”

“That bad, huh?” Emma fought back the urge to laugh.

“That bad,” She confirmed, fumbling with her keys. “I mean, I don’t even think you could call that a penis. It was more like a baby carrot. Or a sewing needle.”

Emma snorted. “Ouch. Did you at least tell him size doesn’t matter?”

“Yeah, but guys don’t really believe that.”

“Don’t really believe what?” Mary Margaret poked her head around the corner, a small bag clutched to her chest. Emma thought about asking whether or not anyone was ever on time here.

“That dick size doesn’t matter.” Ruby repeated, breaking Emma out of her thoughts, and Mary Margaret’s eyes bugged. “Oh, please. You’re way too innocent. Anyway, this guy. A for effort, but like, C for execution. _Max._ ”

Ruby continued her rant, but Emma drifted off when two figures on bikes came into view. They were on the other side of the street, riding matching red bikes, something so cute it was gag-worthy. Henry was tentatively standing up on his pedals, followed by a concerned but proud looking Regina. The woman caught her eye when they passed, a small but genuine smile on her lips as she passed.

Emma waved in return, feeling her heart rate increase.

“Who was that?”

She jumped at Ruby’s words. “Nobody.” She turned to see that the other woman was standing in the open doorway, eyebrow quirked. “What?”

“I call bullshit.” She slipped inside with a smirk. “ _Total_ bullshit. Spill.”

Emma ducked through the door, holding it open for Mary Margaret. “I told you, nobody.” She said, avoiding the other women’s eyes. She headed straight for the office, setting away her art supplies. She needed them for her 6:30, one of the only night studio slots the art institute offered. When she returned, both of them were staring at her, Mary Margaret slouched in one of the bar stools and Ruby with a hand on her hip and elbow on the counter.

“Guys,” She started --

“Brunette. Total MILF. Spill. Now.”

Emma opened her mouth to speak again and Ruby just raised a brow.

“Fine,” She sighed. “I...met her at the beach.” When they didn’t seem to be satisfied with the answer she lifted herself into a stool by Mary Margaret. Fuck it. “Alright. Full story? I got knocked up when I was fifteen and I think that’s my kid.”

Silence. Usually she at least got a glare.

“Wait, you’re serious?” Ruby asked after a moment, leaning over the counter. “No joke?”

“No joke,” Emma confirmed. “I was in a foster home.” No more detail about that than was necessary, she decided, swallowing the lump that was forming in her throat. “I had my first boyfriend, and he was older, and well... yeah. I was young, and when my foster parents found out they were horrified. They took care of me until I gave birth, made sure I gave him up, and then kicked me out. Paid the hospital bills, though. That was nice.” She ducked her head, fiddling with her thumbs. This was far more than she usually shared, especially with perfect strangers, but she’d spent a bit of time with them both yesterday and well...she hadn’t exactly made many friends since coming to California. This could be good, right? Trust and all that. Everyone was always telling her she had a hard time with it. Swallowing hard, she continued. “I never actually got to meet the couple but I did talk to the husband on the phone once. He sounded nice enough. Said his name was Daniel, his wife’s name was Regina, they were from California,  and that they wanted to name him Henry. Asked me if that was okay.” She felt Mary Margaret’s hand on her shoulder and flashed her a quick smile, fighting the urge to shy away from the strangely motherly contact. “I thought that was really considerate. Anyway, a few weeks ago I found this article…” Her eyes strayed to the office, where the article was safely tucked away in her bag. “A thing on artistically gifted kids. One of them was...well, him. At first I didn’t believe it but his name was right there. Henry Mills. And so I looked up Mills in Santa Cruz, and there were a ton, but only one under the name Regina.”

She finally looked up. She’d gotten to the point where she could talk about the events without feeling too shitty -- she’d had eight years. Mary Margaret was giving her a sympathetic look. She’d been on the receiving end of that look far too often in her life and though she knew it came from a place of kindness it was only irritating now. Ruby, on the other hand, was studying her.

“How can you be sure it’s them, Emma? I mean, those are pretty common names.”

“I may have called them and listened to the voicemail.” She still looked skeptical, and Emma winced. “And gone by their house?”

“That’s…” Mary Margaret trailed off, apparently thinking better of it. “Well.”

“...And followed them to the beach,” She added, watching as Ruby rolled her eyes.

“Damn girl. Okay, so you’ve talked to them, right? Or does this Regina chick think you’re some kind of stalker?”

“No, I talked to them yesterday, at the beach, and I don’t think they’ve seen me before then.”

“What are you going to do?” Mary Margaret broke in, voice soft.

Emma shook her head. “No idea.”

“Well, you’re gonna tell them who you are eventually, right?” Ruby asked.

“I’m not sure.” She slumped in her seat, letting her chin rest on the countertop. “Honestly, I think I just wanted to know he was safe, but now…”

The door chimed and Emma jumped, nearly falling off the stool. Mary Margaret shot her yet another sympathetic look as she hopped up and headed to the counter.

“Beach City Grill, what can I get you?”

“The usual, please.”

Emma froze. She knew that voice. Ruby leaned in, and one look at her face told Emma she was right.

She laughed, jutting her chin towards the register. “There’s your MILF, stalker. Three o’clock.”

 

 

 


End file.
